


Shadow

by eraleon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, wash is the director's son 8)))
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6016864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eraleon/pseuds/eraleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But, just like that, she faded into nothing. Opaque, translucent, transparent, gone. Just like she always was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow

Ever since Epsilon had been implanted, everything made crystal clear sense. It was the dawning realization that everything Washington knew to be ... Good, well.

It wasn’t.

It was the complete opposite, and the truth that had managed to slam into him like a runaway freight train was a major factor in the reason behind his mental sanity taking a nosedive. He had poured his faith and loyalty into the Project, into the Director --- His Dad --- and everything had been a complete lie.

Washington was painfully, agonizingly aware the Director knew that Epsilon was going to corrupt him in the most torturous way known --- Right at his core. He knew the Agent had a memory so acute, so astoundingly sharp, that there was no recovering from the unit based on memories themselves and what it would show him. He knew all too well what could’ve and would’ve happened.

Washington should’ve listened to CT, he should’ve been as harsh to the Director as she was. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have lost his sanity. He wouldn’t have lost York and North. He wouldn’t have lost Texas.

The nightmares about Epsilon aren’t the only things keeping him up --- The secrets of the Project aren’t, either. It’s not the last thing he heard of Epsilon screaming, falling apart at the seams within his head, the self destruction --- The hatred, the agony, the sadness ---

It was the same recurring nightmare, over and over again.

 

_“It’s not your fault, kid.”_

_And it’s a hand gently resting on his shoulder, a juxtaposition in cold, black armor against a shaking, bare shoulder. Washington knew the face to the voice, he knew it like the back of his hand. But he couldn’t bring himself to look up. It was too painful, too real in the silence that followed after her famous quote often aimed towards him._

_A hand would ascend to meet with the steel of another hand, hope gathering in his chest that maybe he would finally meet with it this time, that he would finally be able to hold it like he had when he was just a child ---_

_But, just like that, she faded into nothing. Opaque, translucent, transparent, gone. Just like she always was._

 

A shadow doomed to constantly fail.

Except, to Washington, Texas wasn’t a shadow. She never would be. She was a normal fucking human, just like the rest of the Freelancers. She was still his mother. And as far as he knew, he loved her with everything he had.

No matter how many times she slipped right out of his grasp whenever he grew near.

No matter how many times it killed him to live with knowing he could’ve saved her, he had the power and skill to, but always fell short.

Maybe... Maybe she wasn’t the shadow here.

Maybe it was him, following in the memories of the Director. Remembering Texas as a failure of a shadow of Allison was wrong --- He was the shadow of someone so great, someone named Agent Allison “Texas”, doomed to constantly fail.

And that’s what kept him up at night.


End file.
